


The Hs Room Together

by terminallybored



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, Minor Use of Slurs, Pre-Relationship, Season 2-ish, Sharing a Bed, and Tommy is a dick, steve is tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22822165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terminallybored/pseuds/terminallybored
Summary: Circumstances find Steve and Billy stuck sharing a bed during a school trip. As things usually go for Steve, it starts out kind of lame and then gets so much worse.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 5
Kudos: 214
Collections: Harringrove Week of Love





	The Hs Room Together

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Harringrove Week of Love- Day 1: Bed Sharing

There’s an odd number of players on the basketball team. They’re down a man because their main shooting guard broke his stupid arm. So not only are they in a precarious position as far as getting to state, but it makes divvying up the motel rooms really awkward. 

The public school system solution, of course, is to save money and cram 3 people into one room. 

The coach who stuck Tommy H., Billy, and Steve all in one room either has zero awareness of his team, or possibly a really sick sense of humor, because ‘You three are all friends, right? It’ll be fine, there’s probably a couch in there.”

There is not a couch. There are two beds with ugly comforters, a nightstand, and a lamp. Television sets are too fancy for this dump.

“Well since none of us are fags, guess Harrington gets the floor,” Tommy has already announced before shutting himself in the bathroom, probably to use up all of the hot water. And honestly, Steve might just take the floor because it’s been 11 hours on a bus and he’s fucking tired. It’s not like he gets great sleep these days anyway, so the floor can’t really make it worse. 

Billy tosses both their bags onto the empty bed. “I’ve got the shower next.”

“…yeah, fine. I shower in the morning anyway.” Easier to do his hair. Steve frowns and points at the bags. “Are we sharing?”

“Yeah, Harrington, we’re sharing.” Billy digs a pair of shorts out of the bag and tosses them onto the bed. “Problem?”

“No.” Steve has shared a bed with a guy before. Usually with Tommy, actually, since before Billy showed up they used to fall together in the alphabet. There was that one motel where one of the mattresses smelled like piss. And another that Tommy swore was haunted so he wouldn’t sleep alone. Steve vaguely wonders if Tommy still pulls that shit now that he’s usually rooming with Billy. “Just surprised that you’re gonna play the nice guy here.”

“Kinda wanna piss Tommy off, actually.” Billy slaps him on the back. “But it’s cute that you think we’re gonna snuggle.”

Steve ignores the sting in his back. “What’d Tommy do?” Whatever is it, Tommy sure seems unaware of it.

Billy shrugs. “Eh. It’s just hard to respect fag jokes from a guy who’d suck dick in a second to raise his social circle.”

Well. He wasn’t wrong there. And Steve isn’t necessarily against any plan to piss Tommy off. So he shrugs as well. “Alright, whatever,” he says, grabbing his toothbrush and heading for the sinks. 

* * *

Steve is absolutely expecting the solid 8 minutes of heckling he gets from Tommy for being in the bed while Billy is in the shower. He’s facing the wall where the bathroom is to make it easier to ignore him, and seriously, if the guy would shut up for ten minutes he’d probably be able to fall asleep. Tommy acting like an irate ex-girlfriend lost its novelty and sting a long time ago.

_“Really gonna test Billy’s patience over this, Harrington?”_

_“So desperate you need to cop feels from the team? Has it been that long since Nancy?”_

_“If Billy beats the shit out of you, then you won’t even look pretty on the bench.”_

“If I beat the shit out of him, that would put you on the starting lineup, Hagan,” Billy snaps as he comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. “You think I just spent all goddamn day on a bus to tank our chances like that?”

“Hey, at least I know how to plant my feet!”

“Yeah. In the shower to use all the hot water.” Billy whips off his towel and starts using it to dry his hair. “And you used all the goddamn towels. Since when are you such a chick?”

Tommy whines out some reply that Steve doesn’t really hear because he’s trying really hard not to stare at Billy’s dick, even though it’s directly in his field of vision. It jostles lightly with the rest of his body as Billy scrubs at his hair. The blonde curls that start low on his stomach are so much darker than the ones on his head and… Steve finally forces himself to snap his eyes shut. 

There’s a rustle of cloth that Steve hopes is Billy pulling those shorts on. The mattress dips behind him, and then there’s a lot of warmth at his back. 

“Go the fuck to sleep,” Billy says, snapping off the lamp. Steve isn’t sure if that was meant for Tommy or him… probably Tommy since Steve stayed out of their little tiff. But it’s a good idea anyway, and he drops off to sleep without listening for Tommy’s reply. 

* * *

Steve is still facing the wall by the bathroom when he wakes up. There is no clock in that direction. But Steve’s brain is fuzzy like he’s had a few hours of sleep, and it feels very early. The kind of early that comes well before any sunlight. Going back to sleep would be really nice, but something is wrong. Off. 

Is there any pain? No?

Noise? Just Tommy snoring. The rumble of the air conditioner. 

Movement? No. 

Too hot? There it is. 

The room is sweltering and he can barely move. After a moment, he realizes he’s under both the sheet and the comforter. And there’s a heavy arm on top of him. Steve wracks his brain trying to remember if he did that but… no. Who the hell sleeps under a motel comforter? It’s filthy. He shifts and tries to shove the blankets off, but he’s pinned. Not just by Billy’s arm, but the blankets. They’re wound all the way around him. 

“Billy,” he mumbles, the word clumsy from sleep. “Get off.”

“Go the fuck to sleep, Princess,” Billy mumbles, half the syllables lost into the pillow. 

“Too hot.” 

Billy groans. “Oh fuck you. Go to sleep.” 

“Hot.” 

“Is this some weird thing, Harrington? Are you just a slut for body heat?” 

Steve furrows his brow. Goddammit he’s going to have to wake up for this. “What the hell are you talking about?” He feels around until his fingers close around the top of the headboard and he hauls himself out from under Billy’s arm. Cool air hits his face and he pulls in a deep breath of it. His hair is damp, sticking to the sweat on the back of his neck. The icy air pouring out of the unit mounted in the window turns the sweat cold, and it’s gross that it’s so refreshing. 

It’s dark in the room and Steve can only barely make out the vague shape of Billy laying starfish on the bed, one arm across Steve’s back. “Did you wrap me in this shit?”

“Uh, yeah. I did. Because you kept huddling up to me like were freezing.”

That doesn’t sound accurate. Steve has standards, and Billy meets none of them. Except maybe a few really shallow ones about hair and eyes and general physique. And he’s absolutely not _comforting_. “Pretty sure I wasn’t.”

“Pretty sure I wasn’t laying here pining to tuck your ass in.” Billy grabs the back of Steve’s shirt and hauls him back down. Steve is too surprised to remember to keep his grip on the headboard, and gets dragged back into the cocoon of blankets. Billy drops his arm back across his shoulders, and this time Steve feels a knee on his back. “Now fuck off back to sleep.”

“I’m sweating my ass off in here,” Steve protests, flailing for the headboard again. Billy slaps his hand away. 

“You survived in there for…” A pause, a creak of bedsprings as Billy turns to see the red, glowing numbers on the clock on the nightstand. “Over 3 hours. You can handle a few more.”

“I might pass out from overheating.”

“All I’m hearing is that you’ll shut up again.”

Steve huffs and shifts his shoulders, testing his range of motion to see if maybe he can unwrap something, but it seems to go all the way around and-

Billy suddenly leans his weight on the arm he has over Steve, and his hand plunges into the mass of blankets. His fingers grope through Steve’s hair and at the back of his neck in a way that makes goosebumps break out on Steve’s arms. Before he can protest (he’s absolutely getting ready to protest), Billy’s fingers close around the back of Steve’s shirt and pull. Steve makes an indignant squawking sound he hopes Tommy didn’t wake up for as his t-shirt is peeled off him. 

“What the hell, Hargrove??”

“Now you’re down one layer. Should cool you off just fine.” Billy tosses the shirt aside and Steve hears it hit the tiles by the sinks. 

“Did you hear how that landed?” Steve protests. To his ears, anyone could hear that it was clearly a gross, drenched splattering sound. “How it was loaded with sweat from me roasting in here?”

“It landed like a fucking t-shirt. If you don’t shut up and go to sleep, I’m coming for your sweat pants next,” Billy says, giving a warning press with his knee. 

Steve pauses and tries to consider if Billy can make good on that threat. He’s going to have a lot harder time reaching Steve’s waistband than he did his collar. He’s probably just bluffing. But… if he tries it, the noises they’re going to make in the battle are definitely going to wake Tommy up. And that’s gonna be hard to explain. 

“Next time you’re pissed at Tommy, share the bed with him. That’d be way more of a punishment,” Steve grumbles, and makes himself close his eyes, figuring he’ll just have to rest them while he waits out the rest of the sweltering, miserable night. 

* * *

Or not. 

When Steve wakes up again, there’s light creeping into the room. Not a lot of it. Just thin, gray light that makes it possible to see Tommy in the next bed, snoring with each breath. Steve’s head is groggy and he has to remember all over again why he’s wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and sheets. 

He’s not quite as sweltering as he seems to remember, though. Earlier Billy was definitely trying to kill him via suffocation or something, but… everything seems okay now. Comfortable. He shifts a little and pauses. Something is wrong. Different wrong than before. 

“…Where are my pants?” he finally manages through the cotton in his brain. He went to bed with pants on, didn’t he?

“Same place they’ve been since you last started wriggling.” Billy’s voice rumbles right beside Steve’s ear, making him sit up abruptly, as much as his wrappings will allow. This does nothing except confirm his fears that yes, he’s curled up against Billy Hargrove’s side. Shit. 

“You took my pants?” Steve asks, trying to wake up enough to sound indignant. He doesn’t even remember it happening, he couldn’t have been putting up that much of a fight, right? That seems like the more important thing here, not whether or not Steve was trying to snuggle up to Billy. 

“I took a lot more than that, Princess.” 

Uh oh. Steve immediately grasps in vain at his waist for material that isn’t there. Billy smirks and picks up his cigarettes from the side table, slipping one into the corner of his mouth as Steve drops his head and groans. There’s a click of a Zippo somewhere over his head. 

“I get the feeling that pretty face of yours has made things way too easy on you.” Billy pauses to exhale. The smoke wafts down and tickles Steve’s nose through the opening in the top of the blankets. “No one ever handled you like the brat you are.”

“You stripped me naked!” Steve hisses, now suddenly very aware of Tommy sleeping in the next bed. Not that Tommy was a light sleeper, but being quiet seemed super important now. 

“Not for fun, obviously. You’re not in a position for me to enjoy it.” A vague pat to Steve’s side to emphasize his covered state also alerts him to the knowledge that Billy’s arm is around him. “So here’s the deal. It’s just past 5. You sleep another hour and let me have some fucking peace, and I’ll wake you up to get in the shower before Tommy over there hauls his ass up and sees your clothes scattered around.” 

Steve raises his head to glare at Billy, but all he gets for that is a smirk. Billy takes the cigarette from his mouth and holds the filter side to Steve’s mouth in offering. 

“Do we have a deal?”

Steve finds himself straining forward and taking a drag off the cigarette. He holds the smoke in before sighing it out in a long, white breath. 

“Good,” Billy says, not waiting for Steve to use his words. He puts the cigarette back in his mouth, and it bobs lightly with his words. “Go back to sleep, Princess.”


End file.
